


It's Only a Paper Moon

by Ella_Greggs



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Crack, Fluff and Humor, Innuendo, M/M, Minor Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly, Swearing, runaway groom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ella_Greggs/pseuds/Ella_Greggs
Summary: The year was 1932. Millionaire auto mogul Burt absolutely forbade Kurt from marrying playboy Blaine Anderson. But Kurt had a plan - defy his father and make his way across the country to his one true love. For some reason which Kurt could not fathom, this Sebastian Smythe person insisted on accompanying him. Alternate universe that is similar to U.S. in the 1930s.





	1. But I Love Him

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This is my first foray back into writing in several years and I'm rusty so please be kind. The story is just meant to be a fluffy, romantic souffle of as yet undetermined length, featuring my favorite Glee pairing. The 1930s classic screwball comedy "It Happened One Night" was the inspiration for this story, and it is set in a place and time that is not the U.S. in the 1930s, but similar to that era technologically. In other words, no cell phones, no computers, no TVs, no interstate highways. However, in my world homosexuality is socially acceptable and gay marriage is legal. And the characters use modern language. I hope you enjoy.

 

Adam emerged from the stateroom suite wearing soup. Of course, the ship's steward was not wearing only soup, he had his somber black suit on as well. The soup was more an unwelcome accessory.

"He's in a rare mood today," Adam cautioned to Finn, who just stood with wide eyes taking in Adam's new look. "Sir, normally it's not my place to say, but since this is the third suit he's ruined in as many days and I have to pay my own dry cleaning bills, I feel I must point out that the situation is getting out of control. You might want to alert Mr. Hummel. Perhaps he could do something?"

"N-no," Finn said slowly, shaking his head with a determination he did not actually feel. "I ought to be able to handle my own step-brother. How long has it been since he last ate?"

"That would be yesterday morning, sir, when he drank the organic orange juice and had a bit of whole wheat toast. I was only the recipient of the egg white omelet and heart-healthy turkey bacon on that occasion."

“I see. Thanks, Adam. And sorry about your suits, man. I’ll speak to Burt about the dry cleaning, you shouldn’t have to pay for that stuff.”

“Thank you, Mr. Finn. That would be most kind,” the steward replied stiffly. He bowed with a dancer’s grace despite the soup still trickling down his shirt and made his way down the narrow stairs from the yacht's stateroom level to the galley below.

“Kurt?” Finn called, tapping carefully on the bedroom door, “Can I come in, bro? You wanna talk about it?”

“Go away, Finn!”

Shit, thought Finn, Kurt sounded angry, and angry Kurt was super scary. Still, Finn was determined to be a good brother, whether Kurt wanted one or not. “Nuh-uh. You gotta let me.” Finn tried to turn the door handle but found it locked.

“Finnigan Hudson, you set foot in this room and I swear to God I will tell Dad and Carole about those risqué Boovian postcards you have hidden under your mattress.”

Finn blanched and instantly let go of the door handle. Just then he heard a heavy, weary tread on the stairs.

“Kurt, unlock this door.”

“Not until you say yes.”

“That’s not gonna happen, kiddo,” Burt answered firmly. “I’m trying to protect you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”

“But I love him!” Burt and Finn could hear the beginning of quiet sobs coming through the door.

“I’ll take it from here, Finn,” Burt said quietly to his step-son, gently pushing him towards the bannister and taking his place in front of the bedroom door. “You go to the galley and have your second breakfast.”

Finn brightened at the mention of food. “Hey, after that could I take the helm for a while?”

“Um, that didn’t go so well last time. We’re lucky the trawler owner didn’t sue. But it wasn’t your fault,” Burt hastened to add off his step-son’s downcast face. “Saying ‘starboard’ and ‘port’ instead of ‘right’ and ‘left’ can be very confusing.” Thus reassured, Finn retreated, relieved and hungry.

“Listen, Kurt,” Burt tried again, making a real effort to keep calm as Kurt’s crying got louder. “Just open the door and we’ll discuss it. C’mon, don’t make your old man beg.”

Burt heard the sound of sniffles being gotten under control and after a pause the lock disengaged. The door opened and Burt beheld his son – his son whose perfect porcelain skin was now blotchy and red, whose blue-green eyes were puffy and underlined with dark, tired circles. Whose perfect posture was nevertheless intact, chin up and defiant.

Burt moved to hug him but Kurt turned away sharply. “I love him and I’m going to be with him and you can’t stop me,” Kurt insisted coldly.

“Kurt, he’s only after your money. I know his type, he’s a gold-digger. Plus I don’t like the way he’s trying to use you as his ticket to rubbing elbows with the Diamond City theater elites. I know he’s your first serious boyfriend, but –"

“No buts, Dad! You’re wrong about him. Sure, he’s got expensive tastes and he’s ambitious. But if I want to buy him nice things and help his career, that’s my business. I’m marrying Blaine Anderson and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Oh yes there is,” Burt snapped. “We can stay here anchored off Cliff City 3,000 miles from Diamond City ‘til they repeal the Dry Laws for all I care. You’re not marrying that sponge.” With that, Burt turned and left, slamming the door shut on Kurt’s most cherished hopes and dreams.

Or so it seemed.

But one thing Burt of all people should have known: never underestimate the determination of Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.

The next morning, one of the lifeboats was gone, along with a small suitcase of clothes and about $200.

When Adam timidly informed Burt, the older Hummel just sighed deeply and picked up the phone. “Hello Operator. Get me a ship-to-shore line. The Will Schuster Detective Agency.”


	2. Two Tickets to Joffer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reporter, an editor, a bus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers, I can’t promise updates will come this frequently, but my muse is cooperating so far. Enjoy and don’t forget to comment if you get a chance! And don't forget - the story is set in a time and place where there are no cell phones, no computers, no TVs, and no interstate highways.

_The bigger man pounded away, each time harder and harder, each time sending the smaller man’s body rocking backwards.  He moved like a piston, relentlessly driving home his thrusts, always angled to hit that one sweet spot he just couldn’t get enough of.  What had started off as small beads of sweat on his forehead became rivulets rolling down the sides of his face. His muscled arms glistened in the light with perspiration, both his and his partner’s limbs tangled in this delicious dance.  The smaller man strained against the ropes, twisting this way and that but never able to break away or catch his breath.  It was all building to a shattering climax. One final thrust, one last crescendo of rhythmic movement and –_

“STOP! What the fuck is that?” Sue yelled into the phone.  The throbbing vein popping out of her forehead in rage was strongly implied.

“That’s my story,” Sebastian replied unapologetically into the receiver. “You want me to dictate slower for Becky?”  All the reporters on assignment called in their stories for stenographers to take down over the phone.  It was the only way to beat the competition to print.  Becky was the fastest shorthand in the office and Sue’s personal favorite, so Sebastian knew she was on the line.

“I sent you to Cliff City to cover a boxing match, not catalogue your new-found love of S&M.”

“Burton knocked Tomasino out 45 seconds into the first round, there wasn’t much to say.  I was trying to make it interesting.”

“You were trying to make it unpublishable!  And you succeeded.” The editor of the Diamond Daily was in a fury. “Why can’t you once, just _once_ do like all the other trained monkeys around here and complete an assignment without veering into pornography?”

“Why can’t _you_ once, just _once_ give me a proper story to cover,” Sebastian countered hotly. “For God’s sake, Sue, I’m an investigative journalist! The best one on the whole damn paper, but lately you’ve got me covering cheerleading competitions, extreme weather events and weddings.  Weddings!  Disgusting displays of phony sentiment, empty promises, and overpriced romantic gestures that make me want to gag.”

“I don’t want to discuss your gag reflex, Sebastian,” Sue countered coldly.

“Fine,” Sebastian grumbled.  “Let’s discuss this: that money-laundering scandal last month.  That should have been my story, but you gave it to that muckraking hack Jacob ben Israel. He’s not half the reporter I am and you know it!”

Sue did know it, but she’d never admit that to Sebastian. Despite how it appeared, Sue liked the cocky, smirking stick insect.  He was one of the best writers on the staff and he had moxie.  But he was too undisciplined, too irreverent.  Sue wanted just a little less self-confidence and a little more cowering in fear, but Sebastian sucked at cowering.  She wondered sometimes why she kept him on, but then she saw the dreck ben Israel handed in with trembling, sweaty hands, versus the smooth, erudite, damn near spell-binding prose Sebastian was capable of and she knew.

“Tell you what, bean pole, when you get back to Diamond City we’ll find you a nice juicy politician to expose for rank hypocrisy, okay?  Where are you, anyway?”

“The Cliff City bus station. I was thinking maybe I’d check on the local labor dispute …”

But just at that moment, Sebastian heard a breathy male voice behind him ask, “When’s the next bus to Diamond City?”  It was an unusual voice, kind of sexy.  He turned toward the ticket counter and his eyes nearly popped.

“Sue,” Sebastian whispered urgently into the phone, “you know that scion who ran away to marry Blaine Anderson? He’s here!”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I recognize his picture from the Diamond Daily’s society page.  His father’s hired some big detective firm to track him down but I guess he’s eluded them so far.”

“Well stick with him, dammit. We could use a good exclusive.” Sue could see the headlines now – “Heir to Hummel Fortune Flies to Devoted Lover.”  She smirked.  With all the hair gel Anderson used, it should read “Greasy Lover,” but never mind.  “I want regular updates, where he goes, who he meets, what he eats, everything!”

“Will do, boss,” Sebastian agreed eagerly. _Finally a decent assignment!_ Sebastian eyed Hummel discretely.  _Hmm, more than decent. The guy's not half bad. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll learn what he mumbles in his sleep._

“We don’t have any direct buses, young fella,” Sebastian heard the agent say.  “I can book you as far as Joffer but then you’ll have to transfer.”

“Fine, that’s fine,” Hummel agreed hastily.  He glanced around nervously and pulled out his wallet.

“Gotta go, boss!” Sebastian said and hung up.  Sue smiled in triumph. He’d called her “boss” twice in the space of 30 seconds.  This exclusive was off to a good start.

With four long strides Sebastian reached the counter and slid in line just as Hummel headed towards the buses outside.

“One ticket to Joffer, please.”


	3. Riding with the Common Folk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory meet-cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember - this story is set in a universe that is similar to America in the 1930s, but homosexuality is widely accepted and gay marriage is legal. See hyperlinks at the end for pictures of the suits and cars mentioned.

Kurt couldn’t help wrinkling his nose in distaste when he smelled the stale stuffy air.  Here he was, the son of a millionaire congressman, getting on a bus.  Of course he’d never taken public transportation before.  Why would he when the [Duesenberg Model J](http://supercars.net.s3.amazonaws.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/12181133/10239081.jpg) and the [Mercedes-Benz roadster](https://www.gilmorecarmuseum.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/1936-540K-courtesy-RM-Sothebys-2.jpg) were always gassed up and ready, with a chauffeur standing by in case he didn’t feel like driving himself.  If his father knew he’d probably die of shame.  Still, it couldn’t be helped.  And honestly how bad could it be? 10 hours and 500 miles to Joffer, and then just 2,500 more to Diamond City and the open arms of his beloved Blaine.

He stowed his small valise on the rack above and took a seat by the window in the middle of the bus as other passengers filed in.  An elderly couple in patchwork coats with pinched faces.  A youth, maybe 15 or 16, who just screamed “bad boy” with his dark complexion, high cheekbones and ultra-close cropped black hair.  A pretty young blonde with pale green eyes and her infant daughter.  Plus a dozen or so others cramming into their seats with beat up suitcases, stuffed cloth parcels and moth-eaten carpet bags.  The driver was a chubby middle aged Asian man with a flattened, acne scarred face. 

 _They all look so worn down and tired,_ he thought with alarm.  _And their clothes are so shabby._   Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his [dark single-breasted Kent suit](https://www.thefashionisto.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Clark-Gable-1932-Photo-Mens-Fashions-1930s-800x992.jpg).

 

He knew of course the country was in the throes of a multi-year depression, but he’d never been around the people it directly impacted.  “The Common Folk,” Blaine once called them, although Kurt was sure he was joking.  Not that the Hummels didn’t care.  Burt was on the board of numerous philanthropic organizations and Kurt had personally hosted several charity balls at their Diamond City mansion.  Maybe he and Blaine should ask their wedding guests to donate to the Salvation Corps in lieu of giving the couple gifts.  They didn’t really need gifts anyway.  There was nothing Blaine could want that Kurt wouldn’t buy for him.

Kurt pointedly ignored the tall, dark haired man who threw him an appreciative smirk and a wink as he passed by on his way to the back row of the bus.  _Rude! At least he’s dressed decently, plain[grey tweed](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/4b/32/c8/4b32c8b97ee43e003d1120d306a6699a.jpg) but acceptable.  _ Kurt turned away to look out the window.

Even if he hadn’t known which man was Hummel before he boarded the bus, Sebastian would have spotted him immediately.  He stuck out like a sore thumb in that ridiculously expensive suit, which probably cost ten times more than the entire wardrobe of all the other passengers plus the driver combined. Add to that the fact that he looked well fed and well rested, not the kind of guy who scratches out a living.  Surveying the other passengers as he moved down the aisle, Sebastian had an inspiration.  Rather than just writing about the journey, he could study Hummel’s interactions with regular people, turn the article into a sociological piece, a meditation on what happens when the haves meet the have-nots.  In the meantime, Sebastian decided that with a long ride ahead he’d stretch his 6’2” frame out in the back and catch some sleep.  There would be plenty of time to chat Kurt up later.

Another man wasn’t quite so willing to leave Kurt undisturbed. “This seat taken, doll face?”

Without waiting for an answer, the man gracelessly plopped himself down.  Kurt sized up his new companion – dirty blonde hair tortured into an extreme updo, oblong face, haughty expression.  The man’s suit wasn’t threadbare like some of the other passengers, but the fabric was cheap and the workmanship shoddy.   “Hunter Clarington’s the name,” Kurt’s new companion announced.  “I didn’t catch yours.”

“I didn’t give it,” Kurt replied dismissively.

The bus gave a lurch and swung out of the parking lot onto the road.

Hunter used the opportunity to invade Kurt’s personal space a little more.  “Well I’ll just call you ‘gorgeous’.” Kurt rolled his eyes.  “We might as well get acquainted.  It’s going to be a long trip.  You headed to Joffer? Business executive, I’m guessing based on that nice outfit.  I’m on my way to Signal.  That’s about 5 hours north of Joffer.  My main office is there.  See, I travel around.  Vacuum salesman.  Strongest-Vacuum-in-the-West Clarington, that’s what they call me.” He leaned in closer and murmured, “I _suck_ like nobody’s business.  Maybe you’d like a demonstration when we stop for a break?”

Kurt threw him a deadly glare but Hunter just seemed to grow more attentive.  “You don’t talk much, do you?  I like that in a guy.  Besides, a pretty mouth like yours shouldn’t be filled with words when there are so many more enjoyable things that could go in there.  We’ll have to look into that, too.  Yes, indeed, today could be your lucky day if you play your cards right.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes.  “Leave me alone or I’ll have you thrown off this bus.”

Hunter grinned appreciatively.  “Good for you! I like my men feisty! Tiger in the boardroom, tiger in the bedroom, that’s what I always say.”

Kurt craned his neck to see if there was any other open seat, perhaps one where he wouldn’t be sexually harassed.  Unfortunately, the bus was full.  Kurt decided to make good his threat and was just about to get up and push past Hunter when a tall lanky figure loomed over them.

“If you don’t mind, buddy, I’d like to sit with my husband.”

Kurt and Hunter both turned to the third man in surprise.  “Husband?” Hunter looked between them in dismay.  “Listen, mister, he didn’t say he was married.   We were just chatting.  No harm no foul, right?”

“Right,” Sebastian said curtly.  “Now you have about three seconds to move to the back of the bus or you’ll be _sucking_ on your own broken teeth.”

“Sure, sure.  Don’t have to tell me twice.” Hunter skulked off to the back seat Sebastian had just vacated.

Kurt stared at Sebastian for a few seconds as the taller man settled in beside him, not sure how to react.  Sebastian just sat quietly, looking nonchalant, as if he’d been there since before the bus started moving.

“Thank you,” Kurt said eventually.  “I could have handled that myself but I appreciate it.”

Sebastian shrugged.  “No need to thank me.  I just did it to shut that guy up.  He was interfering with my nap.  That plus his cheesy innuendos were getting on my nerves.” He held out his hand. "Sebastian."

Kurt shook it.  “Kurt, um, Smith.”

Sebastian beamed.  “Well fancy that! You’re a Smith, I’m a Smythe.  The ‘y’ adds a bit of class, don’t you think?  You’re welcome to borrow it for the trip, if you like.  Just be sure to give it back at the end.  My family has become quite attached to that ‘y’ over the years.”

Kurt was amused.  Maybe he’d misjudged the guy earlier.  In any case, Sebastian was a definite upgrade from that odious Hunter.  He smiled graciously.  “Thanks for the offer but I’ll manage…Husband.”


	4. Diamond 352

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian begins to write his article, while Kurt begins to shift his perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having trouble finding precise 1930s prices for certain items, so have to take a bit of poetic license with that and appreciate your indulgence. I can tell you that the purchasing power of $1.00 in 1930 was worth about $14.00 in 2018. So Kurt started off his trip with the modern equivalent of $2,800 and Sebastian, as you will see, started off with about $70. But remember that even though things were “cheaper” back then, they weren’t really, since everything cost roughly the equivalent of what it does today. No hate reviews, please, regarding Blaine. I did warn you this story was not Klaine friendly.

_Blaine’s kisses fell so softly on his lips, like eiderdown from a pillow.  Gentle yet insistent hands moved his hips into alignment.  Kurt’s arms wound upwards around his fiance’s neck and he returned the gentle kisses in kind.  Oh how he wanted to run his fingers through the mess of curls he knew lay trapped under all that hair gel. But Blaine kept his sexy waves plastered down, perhaps for the same reason he always wore suits, and Kurt didn’t mind one bit.  Slicked straight hair made him look so dashing and dapper.  Their hips began to rock towards each other, not in any hurry, just slow and steady, building a quiet heat.  This was new.  They’d never done anything below the waist before.  It was delicious, it was divine.  “Oh, Blaine!” he sighed.  Blaine, who was a few inches shorter, moved from kissing his lips to hugging Kurt to the smaller man’s chest.  Kurt snuggled his cheek in the crook of Blaine’s neck.  Yes, he felt warm, safe and completely, utterly adored.  “I love you, my darling porcelain doll,” Blaine said.  “I love you, too,” Kurt murmured contentedly._

At those word, spoken out loud, Kurt awoke with a soft sigh.  Blaine faded away and much to his embarrassment, Kurt found himself nuzzling Sebastian’s arm.  “Oh, I beg your pardon!” he cried, quickly straightening up.  “I didn’t mean to impose.  I’m terribly sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Sebastian replied with a wink. He had in fact quite enjoyed the warmth and gentle pressure of Kurt’s body leaning against his side.  “Did you sleep well? It seemed like you were having a very _satisfying_ dream.” 

Kurt blushed and shifted uncomfortably under Sebastian’s knowing gaze.  “Er, yes, thank you.  I guess I was tired.  I’m not used to … um … such long bus rides.”

Sebastian snorted silently. _You’re not used to bus rides at all_.  “Well, we’ll be stopping shortly for a break and then you can stretch your legs.”

Kurt looked curiously out the window and Sebastian could see the disappointment in his eyes.

 _“It was a typical medium-sized town.  A dry good store, a bank, a bicycle shop, and a few boarding houses lined_[ _Main Street_](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9f/Cheshire_House%2C_Main_Street%2C_Keene_NH_in_the_1930s_%282670803403%29.jpg) _.  Good solid, hardworking folk moved along the sidewalk.”_ Sebastian wrote in his head.  “ _But to the millionaire’s son used to big cities with sky scrapers, fancy cars and bustling crowds, it all looked plain and dreary.”_   That wouldn’t be the start of his article, but he’d work those lines in somewhere.

About 10 minutes later the bus came to a halt in front of a nondescript restaurant.

“We’re stopping for about 30 minutes, folks,” the heavy set driver informed the passengers.

Everyone got up and filed out one by one, taking their meager belongings with them.  Kurt noted in particular the slender blonde who had been sitting on the bench across from them, now trying to juggle her baby and her bag as she waited her turn to exit.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Sebastian offered, taking the bag from the young mother, who looked embarrassed but grateful. 

Kurt inwardly nodded his approval and filed out behind them.  For all his smirking and innuendo, this Sebastian seemed to be quite a decent fellow. Caught up in that thought, Kurt forgot to take his valise.  It was an understandable oversight – he’d never had to attend to his own luggage before.  Adam or Marley or one of the other servants always dealt with that sort of thing.

Inside, the restaurant was dark and unappetizing.  A glance at the menu told Kurt the fair on offer would be basic at best:  boiled meat and potatoes, macaroni, eggs with ketchup.  Clearly geared towards the pocket books of people without means.  Which was fine, he supposed, for people without means.  He decided to find a telephone instead. 

Sebastian noted how Kurt took one look at the place, turned on his heels and exited.   _What a spoiled brat!_  For his part, Sebastian quickly downed a ham sandwich and coffee, scribbled a few sentences in his notebook and headed to the newspaper stand in the hotel next door.  Just as he’d feared, Burt Hummel had not been idle.  “REWARD OFFERED FOR RUNAWAY HEIR” the headline screamed.  Under it was a black and white photograph of [Kurt](http://akns-images.eonline.com/eol_images/Entire_Site/2012721/reg_300.ChrisColfer.SJP.jc.082012.jpeg?fit=around%7C700:700&crop=700:700;center,top) at some swanky Golden Way gala with designer Carrie Bradshaw.  Keeping this story under wraps was going to be a real challenge, if not impossible, with such publicity dogging them at every step!

In a panic, Sebastian checked his wallet. $5.00 (he’d jumped on the bus without any time to plan ahead).  It was a long way and a lot of bus tickets to the Big Diamond, but desperate times....  Five minutes and $1.00 later, Sebastian had scooped up all the copies of the paper and was dumping them in the garbage bins behind the restaurant.  Feeling confident once more but mindful that he was now on a tight budget, he sauntered back to the restaurant and bought a couple of hard rolls and a salami to go.

* * *

After asking round, Kurt found a public phone at the general store a few blocks away.  “Hello operator? I’d like to place a collect call to Diamond 352.  Mr. Blaine Anderson.”  The phone rang for what seemed like forever before Blaine finally picked up.

“Hello Blaine? It’s me, darling!”

“Kurt, baby, what a surprise!” Blaine sounded amused and Kurt could hear multiple people chatting in the background. “I hear you’re on the lam from your old man.  What a good joke!  Everyone here can’t stop buzzing about it.”

“I’m on my way to you, my love,” Kurt said fervently.  Distant laughter and the sound of jazz music floated across the line.   “It sounds like you’re having a party.”

“Yeah, and it’s a swell one at that.  The champagne is flowing and Mercedes Jones is wowing us all with a sampling from her new record.  Too bad you’re missing it.”  

Mercedes Jones.  Kurt had introduced the dazzling jazz singer to Blaine at one of his parties.  Getting her to perform at a private function was no small achievement and now he owed the diva a favor, but Kurt had been glad to do it for his fiance.  “Say, Kurt old boy, you wouldn’t mind booking her for our wedding, would you? I know her band costs a bit, but it would be sure to impress our guests.”

Kurt was somewhat taken aback. Of course he was excited about the wedding, too, but was this really the time to be discussing it?  “Sure, Blaine, sure, whatever you want,” he said meekly. “But, um, don’t you want to know how I am? Where I am?”

“Of course, darling. Where are you?”

“Well, I’m not exactly certain. Somewhere outside Joffer.”

“Joffer?” Blaine scoffed.  “Never heard of it.  Sounds like the end of the world. When do you expect to reach civilization?” By which Kurt knew he meant Diamond City. 

“I don’t know exactly. I’m traveling by bus.  It’s too risky for me to take a train, my father has surely got detectives staking out all the stations along the way.  So maybe four or five days?  A week at most.”

 “You’re right about the detectives, I saw it in the paper. It must be just awful for you, riding with the great unwashed.”  Blaine laughed at his own joke but Kurt, thinking of the elderly farm couple in their patched clothes and the tired young mother on the bus, found it a bit in poor taste. 

Just then Kurt heard a particularly high pitched giggle in the background.  “Blainey, we’re running out of booze,” someone called.  

“Well, I’d better get back to the party, darling. Hosting obligations and all that.  Travel safely and keep me posted on your progress.  I love you, my little porcelain doll!”

Those words warmed Kurt’s heart, echoing as they did the romantic dream he’d had not long before.  “I love you, too, Blaine.”  With that, Kurt hung up and checked his watch.  Just enough time to get back to the bus and continue his journey.

* * *

Boarding the bus, Kurt settled in more comfortably this time.  It wasn’t so bad, this whole bus thing.  He thought about Blaine’s comment about ‘the great unwashed.’  That was unfair.  All the passengers were clearly doing their best to be presentable.  Yes, he and Blaine were definitely going to ask guests to donate to charity in lieu of wedding gifts.

Sebastian came along a few minutes later.  “Did you get something to eat?” he asked politely.

“Oh, I wasn’t really hunger,” Kurt replied. “I went to call a friend, instead.”

Sebastian frowned disapprovingly and wrote in his head, _“The scion was not used to taking care of himself and without a butler to serve him he chose to go hungry. Or perhaps the food was not rich enough or the china not sufficiently grand. But hunger has a way of equalizing men, as young Mr. Hummel would doubtless soon learn on his journey.”_

“You’ll be hungry later, you know,” he scolded.

“Perhaps. Have you ever been to Joffer?” Kurt asked abruptly, clearly wanting to steer the conversation away from himself.

Sebastian played along. “A few years back. I’m guessing not much has changed. Why?”

Kurt looked a bit worried. “My friend suggested it might be a bit… off the beaten path.”

“Well, it’s nothing special but it’s not the end of the world, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Sebastian laughed. “I’ll tell you what I remember if you like.”

* * *

As the bus headed east the sun went down behind them and a few hours later they pulled into downtown Joffer and stopped in front of a modest hotel. The sign hanging in front said, “$2 per night.” Kurt planned to get a room to himself. He looked towards the overhead rack.

“My suitcase!” he exclaimed. “It’s gone!”

“What?” Sebastian swung his head up in alarmed.  “How’d that happen?”  He quickly scanned the bus.  All the passengers from before were accounted for, except the punk kid.

“Um, I guess I forgot to take it with me when we stopped earlier.  Everything was in there, my clothes, my money, my shaving kit, everything!”

“You mean you’re broke?”

Kurt looked disconsolate.  “I still have my bus ticket and a few dollars in my wallet, but that’s about all.  What am I going to do?”

“How far are you going?”  Sebastian asked as if he didn’t know.

“Diamond City.”

Sebastian shook his head and whistled knowingly.  “A few dollars isn’t going to get you all the way to Diamond City.”  Me, neither, he thought ruefully.  But of course they _both_ had to get there or there’d be no story and Sue would make sure Sebastian never had a decent assignment again.  He thought for a minute.  “When the stores open tomorrow we’re going to try to sell that expensive suit of yours.”  Then he smirked at Kurt.  “In the meantime, looks like you’ll be sleeping with your ‘husband’ tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my second story where Mercedes is a famous, fabulous diva (the first one being "So Deep the Night and Far to Go"). I just can’t help it, I love her voice and can’t imagine her not being a phenomenal success regardless of what universe she’s in!


	5. We Have No Bathtub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharing a small room for the night, our boys get to know each other a little better.

Sebastian and Kurt quickly agreed to each contribute a dollar towards their room.  Sebastian paid the bored clerk, who mechanically pushed the guest register towards him.  Sebastian’s hand hovered over the page.  “So which would you rather be for the night, a ‘Smith’ or a ‘Smythe’?” he whispered mischievously.

“A ‘Smythe’,” Kurt answered quickly.  For all he knew, Burt’s detectives were checking every hotel between here and Diamond City.  “We should register under your name.”

Sebastian smiled down at him.  “As you wish, darling.” 

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Certainly, my pet,” Sebastian replied cheerfully.  He dutifully wrote ‘Mr. and Mr. Sebastian Smythe’ in the register.  Room key in hand, he turned to climb the stairs. 

“Wait a minute. Where’s _your_ luggage?”

“Oh, I don’t have any,” replied Sebastian nonchalantly over his shoulder.  “This was a last minute trip for me.”

Kurt stopped halfway up the steps.  “But that’s ridiculous!  You’re traveling two thousand miles with only the clothes on your back and whatever’s in that paper bag?”

“I like to travel light.”  Kurt raised a skeptical eyebrow.  “Actually, I wasn’t sure how far I’d be going when I started,” Sebastian lied smoothly.  “Now that I’ve decided to go all the way to the Big Diamond, I’ve been thinking tomorrow when we sell your suit I’ll pawn my watch. That should get me enough dough for some supplies.”

By now they had reached their hotel room.  Sebastian turned the key in the lock, opened the door and bowed with a flourish of his arm, indicated that Kurt should enter first.

At first blush there was nothing actually _wrong_ with the room that Kurt could see.  Smaller by far than the hotel suites he was used to occupying, but quite clean and cozy.  Pretty little white stripe- and brown leaf-patterned wallpaper covered the walls.  On one side there was a small dark wooden dresser with a white linen doily on top.  A white porcelain washbasin and pitcher of water sat atop the doily, along with some towels, and a walnut framed beveled mirror hung over the dresser.  On the other side of the room, next to the window there was a desk and chair in the same style as the mirror and dresser.  Not charming like a country inn or swanky like a Diamond penthouse, but nevertheless quite acceptable for one evening.   But then Kurt’s eyes fell on the bed.  As in _the_ bed, singular.

He stared at the offending furniture.  “I’m afraid this won’t do, Sebastian.  We can’t sleep in the same bed.”

“It’s sweet of you to worry about my reputation, but there’s no need.  I trust you to be able to control yourself, so one bed will be fine.”

“You don’t understand.  Not only do I hardly know you, I’ve never shared a bed before.  Plus I have a fiancé.  We’ll have to get a room with two beds.”

Sebastian hooked his thumbs under his belt and rocked back slightly on his heels.  “That’s going to look rather odd, a married couple asking for two beds.  And if we admit we’re not married the hotel management might object to us sharing a room at all.  Some folks can be rather conservative about that sort of thing.  I’d offer to be a gentleman and sleep in the bathtub, but we don’t have one.”

“There’s no bathtub?”  Kurt was becoming more overwhelmed by the minute.

“It’s worse than that, my turtle dove. There’s no bath _room_.  Well, not a private one.  The communal bathroom is down the hall.”

Kurt gaped at him.  “People _share_ bathrooms?  With total strangers?  That’s disgusting!”

“No,” Sebastian replied patiently.  “That’s how an hotelier makes ends meet charging $2.00 per room.  If this were a fancier place with en suite bath we’d be paying $6.00 at least and most of our fellow travelers would be sleeping on park benches tonight.” He silently started composing this section of the story. _Young Hummel began hyperventilating when he heard the word “communal.”  He was still so fixated on the lack of his accustomed creature comforts that he seemed not yet to fully comprehend the plight of those who could not afford even this modest roof over their heads for the night._

Kurt absolutely did not look happy about the situation, but he knew he had to make the best of it.  Just one hour ago, pawning one of his favorite suits had seemed like an outrage.  Now he was pinning all his hopes for a comfortable remainder of the trip on doing just that.

He turned the desk chair to face towards the center of the room and sat down.  He rested his elbows on his thighs and put his chin in his hands.  His stomach rumbled loudly.  “Sebastian,” he said plaintively, not looking up, “I’m hungry.”

“I told you you would be.” _Brat._ “Here.” Sebastian grabbed the paper bag.  He handed Kurt a roll and some salami slices and started chewing his own portion. 

“Thank you,” Kurt said softly.  He stared morosely at the tender morsels but then his stomach churned again so he ate. 

After that rather cheerless meal, Kurt was at a loss as to what to do or say next.  The room began feeling claustrophobically small.  “I… um… I think I’ll go wash up.  It was a long ride.”

Sebastian had stretched his long frame out on the bed.  He propped himself up on his elbows and grinned.  “Do you want me to come guard the door so you’re not disturbed by total strangers?”

“You’re enjoying this situation far too much. It’s not my fault –“  Sebastian quirked an eyebrow and Kurt stopped abruptly, knowing what Sebastian was going to say.  Actually, it was precisely his fault his suitcase had been stolen and it was stupid of him to leave all his money in the suitcase in the first place.  “No,” he said instead.  “Thank you for the offer but I’ll manage.”

Shortly thereafter Kurt returned, fully dressed, with his hair damp dry.  He was visibly upset.  Predictably, the bathroom had been just as tiny, albeit just as scrupulously clean, as the rest of the hotel.  But Kurt had been absolutely traumatized by the soap!  First of all, there was only one soap for both hands and face.  And that wasn’t the worst of it.  This offending all-purpose soap was harsh dry goods store stuff with no moisturizer.  Kurt’s skin felt like rough leather.  But he said nothing and tried to calm down, because he suspected Sebastian would just laugh at him if he complained.

Sebastian meanwhile had made himself comfortable.  He was sitting at the desk in his boxer shorts, bare chested, scribbling in his small notebook when Kurt came in.  Hearing the door open, Sebastian quickly tucked the notebook in the pocket of his jacket, which he had draped across the back of the chair, and stood up.

Kurt took in the sight of Sebastian’s long, well-defined torso and lean, muscular legs.  Sebastian was many inches taller than Blaine, with broader shoulders.  Kurt had never seen this much of another man’s body, since he and Blaine were always fully clothed when they fooled around (Kurt’s rule), and the sight both embarrassed and excited him.

Kurt turned away abruptly when Sebastian moved closer.

“You can look, you know. I don’t mind.”

“I.. I shouldn’t,” Kurt stammered, blushing like mad.  “I have a fiancé.” 

Sebastian smirked.  “You don’t mind if I look, do you? I don’t have a fiancé.”

“Well, um, I suppose I can’t stop you.  But I’ve been thinking about it and you can have the bed.  I’ll just put my head down on the desk and nap that way.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  You’ll wrinkle your suit and it will be that much harder to sell.  Come on, get undressed and climb in.  You can sleep under the covers and I’ll sleep on top.  I promise no funny stuff.”

Kurt sighed in resignation.  He was terribly tired and he really hadn’t wanted to sleep hanging over a desk.  This long day had been full of little shocks and surprises.  A bed, even one he had to share with an admittedly attractive but somewhat irritating near-stranger, was after all such a small indulgence.  And this absolutely was _not_ cheating on Blaine, Kurt reasoned, because absolutely _nothing_ was going to happen.

Sebastian stared openly while Kurt disrobed and very much liked what he saw.  Muscular arms _(probably from all the tennis)_ , firm backside _(probably from all the horseback riding)_ , and legs for miles.  Young, rich and beautiful.  But still a pampered pup, Sebastian reminded himself.  And just a story.  Just a story.

Kurt climbed in, scooted to the far edge of the bed, turned to the wall and pulled the top sheet over himself.  Sebastian climbed in after and positioned himself above the top sheet and under the blanket with his back to Kurt, trying to give the other man as much space as possible.  He’d have very much liked to snuggle closer.  It had been a long time since Sebastian slept in the arms of (or did anything else intimate with) a handsome man.  But Sebastian had promised and it was absolutely essential that he maintain Kurt’s trust so that he could continue traveling with him.  Besides, although he wasn’t proud to admit it, deep down Sebastian was a gentleman.

Kurt began to drift off almost immediately.  “Good night, Sebastian,” he mumbled.  “Thank you for helping me.”

 _Although born to a life of privilege, the Hummel heir was learning simple gratitude._ “Good night, Kurt.  And you’re welcome.”


	6. A Tough Sell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Detective Will Schuester hot on their trail, Kurt and Sebastian have to get creative.

Sleep fell away and Kurt slowly opened his eyes to watch the dappled sun filter through the lacy curtains.  He felt well-rested, which surprised him because the mattress wasn’t nearly as plush as he was used to and the sheets weren’t nearly as soft.

When he stretched and didn’t feel anyone beside him he turned over carefully.  “Sebastian?”

The room was empty.  Kurt quickly sat up in alarm. Had Sebastian abandoned him?  But why, when last night the other man been so… well, ‘kind’ wasn’t exactly the right word, but comforting, in his own sardonic way.  Kurt climbed out of bed and started to get dressed in the suit he knew he’d be saying goodbye to today.  That’s when he noticed Sebastian’s watch on the desk with a note underneath that read, “Good morning, husband.  Don’t worry, and don’t wander off, I’ll be back soon.”

Well, that was a bit presumptuous, Sebastian once again just assuming Kurt couldn’t take care of himself, even if he had to admit he hadn’t done a very good job of it so far.  There was just too much about traveling this way that was new and strange. 

Now dressed and with nothing to do in the small room, not even shave (because his shaving kit was in the now long-gone valise), Kurt quickly got restless and was just about to venture out to get a paper when he heard a melodic voice approaching.

_¶It’s only a paper moon/ sailing over a cardboard sea¶_

Sebastian knocked a couple of times on the door for politeness and then entered.  “Oh good, you’re up. Let’s get some breakfast.”

Kurt marveled that Sebastian could be sometimes so solicitous and other times so rude.  “I slept just fine, thank you for asking.” 

Sebastian smiled.  No matter what else he thought of Kurt, the guy had spunk.  Sebastian crossed to the desk, put his watch on, crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash can.  “Me, too, since _you_ asked.  You’re hungry, right?  So let’s go, unless you need more time to pack?” he teased with a twinkle in his eye.  Kurt huffed and marched past Sebastian into the hallway.

The restaurant next door served food that was about as appetizing to Kurt as that of the roadside diner they’d stopped at the day before – eggs and ketchup, corn mush, creamed chipped beef, and something called ‘peanut loaf’.  Kurt didn’t want Sebastian to laugh at him so he didn’t ask about that one.  Having barely eaten the day before, Kurt found his appetite outweighed his lack of enthusiasm.  “I guess I’ll have the eggs with ketchup and orange juice,” he told the waitress, figuring that at least sounded somewhat healthy.

“Excellent choice, sweetheart,” Sebastian declared loudly.  “Make that two.  And two coffees, please.”

“Please stop using those endearments,” Kurt hissed once the waitress had left to place their orders.

The taller man leaned in slightly.  “Whatever you say, my darling,” he murmured in what Kurt considered to be an unfairly alluring voice.

Kurt blushed and looked down.  “Why do you insist on doing that?”

Instead of answering head on, Sebastian replied, “I hope your finance appreciates how lovely you look when you blush like that.”

“He… that is to say… I’m sure he does,” Kurt seemed even more flustered by the question than the compliment.

Sebastian cocked his head and wondered?  Did he detect a little _my fiancé takes me for granted_ in that answer?  He’d have to explore that line of questioning at a more opportune time.  For the moment, he wanted to focus on how Kurt liked his first experience with eggs and ketchup, and the look on Kurt’s face as he took his first few dainty bites said it all.  Sebastian almost laughed at Kurt’s moue of distaste when he tried the coffee.  “I’m guessing this is not what you’re used to?”

“It’s fine,” Kurt grimaced as he hastily put the bitter coffee aside and took up the juice, which had the great benefit of being fresh.  “So where did you go this morning?”

“Oh, I just went to find out where the pawn shop was.”  This was true, but Sebastian had also called Sue to update her on his progress.  Once she finished yelling at him (same old, same old), she told him to keep up the good work.  “Hurry up and finish and we’ll go try our luck.”

* * *

“No can do, pal,” the proprietor of _Abrams Quality Curios_ said with finality, rejecting Sebastian’s watch.  Kurt and Sebastian stared down at the man in his wheel chair, who stared back stone faced.  “Look at these cases,” he gestured along the counter.  “Full of watches and rings I can’t sell.  Just like most of the stuff in here.” 

Even in his own disappointment, Sebastian watched carefully as Kurt took in the dark, musty atmosphere of the shop.  _He’d noticed the assortment of cameras, radios and musical instruments displayed haphazardly in the window.  The whole place had an air of crushing sadness and loss about it,_ Sebastian wrote in his head. _About to part with the final remaining link to his wealthy life, at least temporarily, the Hummel heir put on a brave face nonetheless, like so many people who had lost everything during the Great Depression._

“What about the suit?” Sebastian asked, trying to sound confident.

Artie shrugged dismissively.  “Different story, same result.  I couldn’t sell it for much above $5 and by the time I pay for the dry cleaning there goes my profit margin.  I’m sorry fellas, but times are tough and people don’t have much to spare for luxuries.”

Both discouraged, they silently made their way to the bus station, not sure how much further east they could go on a couple of dollars.  Just as they rounded the corner, Sebastian heard a curly haired man in a trench coat ask the ticket agent, “Have you seen this guy around?”  Sebastian caught a glimpse of a photo of a slightly younger [Kurt](https://mms.businesswire.com/media/20131017006272/en/387876/5/ChrisColfer_TLOS2Photo.jpg.jpg), probably taken when he was a student at that fancy boarding school in Ohio. 

So Detective Schuester wasn’t as incompetent as he’d hoped.  Sebastian instantly hooked his arm in Kurt’s and spun them around.

Kurt frowned as he struggled to keep stride with Sebastian, who was nearly dragging them back down the street.  “What’s wrong?  I’ve got at least enough money to go 300 miles, maybe a little further if I don’t eat so much.”

Sebastian smiled at that.  Eat so much!  They’d walked from the pawn shop to save money on a trolley and lunch had hardly been extravagant.  _The scion was already starting to grow accustomed to doing without, to making hard choices to survive._  

Now Sebastian had to think fast.  If the detective was checking the buses as well as the trains, they’d have to find some other way out of town.  Hitchhike, maybe?  Suddenly his eye was drawn to a garish flyer on a telephone pole.  _The Beiste Show in Town_ it said at the top.  Under that was a sketch of scantily clad girls doing a can-can and at the bottom _Traveling Burlesque._

“I have an idea that might get us closer to Diamond City _and_ keep us from starving along the way.”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow.  “Another idea?” he asked skeptically.  “Your last one didn’t turn out so well.”

“Ah, ye of little faith.  Come on.”

* * *

“Puck, I swear you rip that backdrop and I’ll backdrop you!” the tall, broad shouldered woman roared.  “Now what did you say your act was?”

“Um…”  Kurt started blindly at the same time Sebastian cut in “We both sing.”  He knew his voice was pretty good and even though he’d never heard Kurt sing, if the young heir’s speaking voice was anything to go by, the man probably sounded at least halfway decent.  Sebastian was sure he could teach him a few popular duets.

“Hmm,” Ms. Beiste said noncommittally.  “I don't need warblers. What else can you do?”

Kurt decided he’d been far too passive all day and was now determined to show Sebastian he could pull his own weight. “Ballroom dance,” he pipped up, surprising Sebastian with the conviction in his voice.  “Latin and European.”  Kurt was pretty sure that with a little practice he could lead Sebastian through the steps at least well enough to please burlesque show crowds.  “And I play the piano.”

“Brittany!  Stop picking at that costume. Sequins don’t grow on trees, you know!” She yelled at the slender blonde fidgeting on stage while the musicians tuned their instruments.  “Sorry, boys” Ms. Beiste waived her hand to dismiss them.  “I need strippers, not ballroom dancers or ivory ticklers.”

Sebastian began to thank her for her time, internally wondering what the hell they were going to do now, when Kurt cut him off.  “Okay, we can do that.”


	7. The Beiste Show in Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just let the music possess you. I'll do the rest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PRETTY PLEASE use the links embedded in the chapter to help you visualize and hear how I imagine this sequence. I had real trouble syncing up Kurt and Sebastian’s dance routine with any version of ‘Bolero’ on the internet, and the instrumental video (run time 6.39) was the closest one I found. The dance videos illustrate just some of the moves, the dance I describe is made up in my own head. My sincere apologies to musicians and other people with actual musical knowledge. I used to play the recorder as a kid, but when it comes to guessing which horn, wind, string or percussion instrument is making which sound, I’m pretty much flying blind. Hopefully, though, you’ll just fall in love with Bolero like I did and between the musical markers I’ve written in and the video you’ll be able to follow along. I also apologize if the prose I use to describe the dance gets a little over-ripe. I’ve never written a sensual dance sequence (or any other dance sequence, for that matter).  
>  ****  
> FYI, the popularity of burlesque shows peaked in the 1930s so a full house in a small town is quite realistic, even during the Great Depression. There is one minor historical inaccuracy in this story, for those keeping score. The story is set in 1932. Ravel’s ‘Bolero’ premiered in 1928 and Cab Calloway’s ‘Minnie the Moocher’ was released in 1931 so all well and good. But the musical “Anything Goes” debuted in 1934. Just a few years off so I hope nobody minds.

“Excuse us a minute,” Sebastian said as he roughly pulled Kurt aside.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, there’s a ballroom routine Blaine and I have done a couple of times at parties.”  Kurt seemed positively excited.  “We could adapt it pretty easily for a striptease.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”  Sebastian ran his hands through his hair in distress.  “You nearly have a nervous breakdown about sharing a bathroom but you’re totally okay with taking off your clothes for strangers?”

“This is different, this is a performance, it doesn’t count.  Besides, I don’t see why you’re getting so upset.  You didn’t have any qualms about showing off your body last night.” 

 “Oh don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”  Sebastian gestured between them.  “I’ve got no problem having an audience drool over our magnificent physiques.  But I was thinking more of you.  Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure I have to get to Diamond City and if this is the way to do it then I will do it.”

Sebastian grinned wickedly.  “Okay then, husband, let’s give it a go.”  _As his journey continued, the Hummel heir was throwing off the conventions and restrictions that had heretofore defined his life, including those that required him always act the “respectable” gentleman.  He would take a lowly burlesque dancer’s job and expose himself to potential public ridicule, all to get to the man he loved._ Whether that man deserved his love was a different story.  If Anderson’s frivolous reputation was well earned, Sebastian suspected perhaps not.

While Sebastian silently composed the next part of his story Kurt marched back to Ms. Bieste.  “We’ll take the –“

“Woah there, fancy pants!”  She held up a hand to stop him.  “First you get a try-out tonight and if _that_ goes well, then we can talk about the job.  C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the troupe.  Everyone, this is – tell me your names again.”

“Kurt and Sebastian Smythe” Sebastian said, figuring Kurt wouldn’t mind. And he was right.  The shorter man nodded vigorously.

Ms. Bieste made a skeptical face but let the fake sounding names slide.  What did she care, as long as their act was good?   She motioned to Brittany and a Latina on stage in matching pink sequined costumes.  “That’s Brittany on the right and her fiancée Santana on the left.  They’re our female exotic dancers.”  Brittany called out “Hi!” and gave a friendly wave while Santana looked them over, supremely unimpressed, and went back to studying her bright red nails.  “That guy who BETTER NOT DESTROY MY SCENERY“ Ms. Bieste bellowed at the rostrum “is Puck and that’s Lauren, my other stage hand.”

“Hey, fellas, welcome aboard!” Puck called, apparently unphased by Ms. Bieste’s criticism.  Lauren gave a noncommittal shrug and went back to fixing one of the foot lights.

“A- _hem!_ ” 

Ms. Bieste turned with annoyance to the petite brunette making her way down the aisle towards them.

“And this is Rachel,” Ms. Bieste said wearily, casting her eyes to the sky.

“Rachel Berry,” the woman said over-brightly, thrusting out her hand.  “Maybe you’ve heard of me.  I played Hope Harcourt in “[Anything Goes](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anything_Goes)” on Golden Way a few seasons back.”

“Really?” asked Kurt in surprise. “I saw that show.  I’m afraid I don’t remember you being in it.”

Rachel looked a bit shame-faced.  “Well… that’s because… um…”

“Rachel had a bit of a co-star problem and only played two shows, isn’t that right, dearest,” said a curly haired man smugly as he sauntered up to join them.  He put a possessive arm around her waist and pecked her on the cheek before offering his hand.  “I’m Jesse, resident crooner.  Rachel here has tremendous talent, probably more than all the rest of us put together.  But she can be a bit of a spotlight enthusiast and let’s just say it didn’t go over well with the other leads.  Or her director.  So we find ourselves here on the vaudeville circuit.  But hey,” Jesse shrugged good-naturedly, “that’s showbiz!”

“What my husband means is I was blacklisted on Golden Way by petty, vindictive people jealous of my superior musical abilities.  But this is much better, honestly,” Rachel insisted defiantly.  “On the road I get to expose so many to world class entertainment they would otherwise never see.  In fact, as the only Golden Way professional here, my name should really be atop the marquee.”  She shot Ms. Bieste a sharp look.  “But _apparently_ “Rachel Berry and Her Burlesque Ensemble” just isn’t catchy enough!”  Jesse smiled down at his wife indulgently and Ms. Bieste heaved a sigh to signal she had heard this speech many times before.

“Well,” Ms. Bieste said, “that’s just about everyone.  Plus Brad and the orchestra.  Jesse, why don’t you take Kurt and Sebastian to wardrobe so they can pick out costumes for tonight.  Oh and boys, no pressure but we’re expecting a full house.”

* * *

Now Kurt was all business.  Even though he knew he was supposed to affect perpetual ennui about just about everything, like everyone else in his social circle, he secretly loved singing and dancing.  In fact, it was one of the things that drew him to Blaine, a shared passion, even if for Kurt it was more of a secret passion.  Of course, Blaine was a far better entertainer in all respects, as they and all their friends agreed.  Well, Mercedes Jones said some extremely complimentary things about Kurt’s voice when she heard them duet, but she was just being kind because it was Kurt’s party.  Plus Blaine wanted to make theater his career, while Kurt had no such ambitions.  He just didn’t have the connections necessary to succeed, but with Kurt’s help that would all change.  They’d get married, Kurt would finance Blaine’s shows and Blaine would perform to worldwide acclaim.  And they would be deliriously happy together.

“So how well do you dance?” he quietly asked Sebastian as Jesse led them along the narrow, cluttered maze of corridors and interconnected rooms below the stage.

“No man’s ever complained about the way I move my hips.”

Kurt rolled his eyes.  “Charming. Nevertheless, I think I'll make your part relatively simple, just to be on the safe side. It will mostly involve stepping towards me, stepping away from me, holding me, spinning me, and taking off your clothes at strategic moments.” 

Sebastian purred in his ear, “Holding you with our clothes off won’t be any hardship, my lamb.”

“Why do I even talk to you?”

“Here’s wardrobe,” Jesse announced.  “I leave you in very enthusiastic hands.  Break a leg tonight.”

The wardrobe master was quite a bit younger than Kurt expected.  He rushed up from his sewing machine to greet them, practically knocking over the table.

“Hi, we’re Kurt and Sebastian Smythe. We’re the new exotic dancers.”

“So nice to meet you, Messieurs Smythe!  Oh my god, Kurt, that [suit](https://www.thefashionisto.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Clark-Gable-1932-Photo-Mens-Fashions-1930s-800x992.jpg) is to die for!” the wardrobe master gushed. 

“It’s an authentic Kent, isn’t it?”  He started pawing Kurt’s blazer.  Kurt seemed mildly horrified at the lack of restraint but submitted.

Sebastian bit back the ‘Down boy!’ that was on the tip of his tongue. 

“I’m Chandler.  Such fine bodies as you both have, it will be my pleasure to dress you.  Pick anything, anything!” he clapped his hands with delight. ”If you join the troupe maybe we can do something custom made.  I _love_ making new creations, even though _some_ people with big loud voices and big loud egos don’t appreciate my efforts!”

“Do you have anything with a Latin flavor?” Kurt asked, already combing through the racks of sequined, satin, feathered, and velvet concoctions.

“Latin! How exotic!  Well, exotic outfits for exotic dancers, eh?  As a matter of fact, I’ve got these!” Chandler cried, pouncing on the far rack.  Seriously, thought Sebastian, someone should take away this guy’s coffee allowance and wean him off the sugar!  The wardrobe master held up two flashy ‘[gaucho](https://www.fancy-dress-forever.co.uk/shopimages/products/extras/7215S_a.jpg)’ outfits.  Kurt inspected them carefully.  Black hats, billowy bright red shirts with deep V-cuts that would show most of a man’s chest, low scooped black vest, black pants with large red gussets at the bottom and matching red velvet waist sashes. 

“These will do just fine. Do you think you can alter them to fit in time for tonight?”

“Kurt,” Sebastian cut in, “We’re not going to be in our costumes long enough for the audience to care whether they fit right.”

Kurt ‘tsk’d’ aside Sebastian’s objections and shoved him at Chandler so the over-eager wardrobe master could take his measurements.

* * *

The next stop was Joffer’s one and only sheet music store. 

 “I have an idea what we should strip to -- ‘[Minnie the Moocher](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n0J2vA4POO0%20)’.”  Sebastian clearly considered this an excellent choice.

“No,” said Kurt dismissively as they made their way into the shop.  “We’re doing Ravel’s '[Bolero](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwjckBCIPZU)'.  Have you heard it before?  It’s pretty new but – "

“You’re kidding, right?” Sebastian stopped dead and stared at him incredulously.  “You want to strip to classical music?  Kurt, this is burlesque.  That means pounding percussion and blaring brass and plenty of both.  I’ve never heard this Ravel score, but I know ‘Bolero’ is – “

“’Bolero’ is sensuous.  ‘Bolero’ is seductive.  Trust me, Sebastian, ‘Bolero’ is perfect.”

“You can’t bump and grind to classical music, Kurt, you just can’t. Let’s do ‘Minnie the Moocher’.  That’s what audiences expect.”

“No,” Kurt insisted, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards the register.  “’Minnie the Moocher’ is cheap, it is common.  I am neither of those things and I won’t let you lower yourself to be so, either.”  He pinned Sebastian with a fierce and imperious glare.  “We will do ‘Bolero’ and we will make them love it.”  Sebastian couldn't help admiring Kurt’s determination, no matter how misplaced it might be.  Kurt nervously bit his lip and looked down.  “Or I could solo.  I mean, you don’t owe me anything.  Quite the reverse, in fact.  We could part ways here if you want and no hard feelings.” 

Sebastian stared intently at him.  “Do you want to part ways?”  He knew the answer _he_ wanted, but what did Kurt want?

“Well… of course not.  I mean, not if you want to stay.”

Sebastian’s smile commandeered his whole face.  “Then I’ll stay.  Because you, my dear, are one hell of an adventure.”  And one hell of a story, he added to himself. 

* * *

 

Rachel and Jesse finished their duet of “[It’s De-Lovely](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u138i26a0IY)” to the enthusiastic applause of the packed house. The couple’s voices blended together perfectly and they glided across the floor with practiced ease.  Had Sebastian been less nervous he would have been just as enchanted as the audience seemed to be.  Following a lousy act wouldn’t be so bad, but following two former Golden Way performers!  They were going to get eaten alive.

“You look a little green around the gills,” Kurt whispered as they waited for the curtain to come down on the applause.  “Where’s all that Smythe with a ‘Y’ bravado I’ve come to know and tolerate?”  He hoped teasing would loosen Sebastian up but the taller man just shook his head slightly.

“It’s in the trash can with the rest of my stomach contents,” Sebastian ground out, staring at center stage as if there were a gallows there.  Sue was going to owe him one huge bonus.  “These pants are way too tight.  I’m never going to get all these stupid cuff buttons undone. I barely know the routine – “

“Hey,” Kurt laid his hand on Sebastian’s cheek and turned his head to look into his eyes. “We’re going to be great.  Just let the music possess you.  I’ll do the rest.”

The curtain fell.  Rachel and Jesse hurried off and Kurt stepped out quickly to take his mark, his hard-soled shoes clacking on the wooden floorboards.  The curtain came up to reveal Kurt alone at the rear of the stage, his back to the audience, standing ramrod straight.  Kurt remained unmoving as the tambour began it's faint [rat--a-tat-tat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwjckBCIPZU).  When the flute solo lilted in, he leisurely [rolled one shoulder back and then the other](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmOFAtg9twM).  Then he stretched his right arm out to the side and swept it overhead in a graceful curve, followed seamlessly by the left companion, like a man awakening from sleep.  Kurt dipped his knees, crossed his legs and spun around quickly so he was facing the audience.  He leaned to one side and swayed his arms in unison overhead before snapping them back crisply to his sides in a matador’s stance.  Then he clapped sharply and brought his foot down with a hard, precise [STAMP](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmOFAtg9twM) on the floor once in time to the beat.  And other quick [SPIN. CLAP/STAMP](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmOFAtg9twM).  When the second flute came in, he softened his stance again and began to glide forward, long legs making slow, graceful semi-circular sweeps along the ground in front of him.   Arriving upstage he spun again and brought down his heel with a sharp CLAP/STAMP just at the moment the string section joined in.  He tossed his hat to the crowd.  Silence from that quarter.  For a split second Kurt frowned inwardly.  Maybe Sebastian had been right about the music.  But he shook it off just as instantly.  Kurt was _more_ right, audience be damned!

The drum did a brief rat-a-tat-tat solo and Sebastian took a deep breath.  Showtime!

The clarinet floated upward as he entered from the wings, taking strong, dramatic strides in a wide arc around Kurt, moving across and upstage.  The underlying strings intensified as Sebastian circled him while Kurt, facing the crowd, began [gyrating his hips](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxWBw_eLaD8&list=RDvxWBw_eLaD8&t=6) in syncopation with the hypnotic, undulating score and slowly shucked his vest.  It was in the routine for Sebastian to keep his eyes fixed on Kurt _(“like a cheetah stalking a gazelle” Kurt said in rehearsal)_ , but even if it hadn’t been Sebastian would have done it anyway because, damn! those hip rolls were positively sinful!  Kurt must be one hell of a rumba partner.  Sebastian was so caught up in watching Kurt unbutton his high shirt cuffs that the horn section kicking in startled him.  Oh crap, that was Sebastian’s cue to strip off his own vest.  He quickly tossed his hat and vest to the audience and set to work on the cuffs as he continued his circuit, remembering to deliberately exaggerate his own hip movements.

Kurt spun again twice in rapid succession, bringing his heel down each time sharply STAMP, STAMP to punctuate the downbeat as the horns descended the diatonic scale.  He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Ms. Bieste and her troupe had gathered in the wings to watch the couple.  He briefly noted they didn’t seem to totally hate what they were seeing.  The audience, which had whistled and catcalled continuously during Brittany and Santana’s routine, was unnervingly quiet.  But the two men were halfway through and there was no turning back now. 

Kurt and Sebastian began circling each other, swaying their hips in sync with the music.  As the violins crescendoed they tore off their red shirts in unison.  The two men grasped hands and Kurt spun into Sebastian embrace.  Bare back to bare chest, both men faced the audience and bent forward deeply, Kurt encased in Sebastian’s arms.  Sebastian’s hands slid down to hold Kurt’s hips as Kurt, body now in an L-shape with torso parallel to the ground, looked up and stretched forward, flexing his well-defined chest and upper arms.  Sebastian bent slightly backward and released Kurt, who quickly stepped away, sweeping his arms wide and overhead.  He crisply brought them down by his sides in matador stance, turning with vicious precision and a STAMP. STAMP. STAMP. STAMP. STAMP. STAMP in time with the pulsating music.  Sebastian, now swinging his hips and circling Kurt once again, untied his red sash, ventured an unchoreographed jazzy spin and tossed the sash off towards the wings stage left, noting as Kurt had earlier that other performers had gathered there to watch them.  But it was just a passing thought.  Sebastian only had eyes for Kurt.  Now holding his own red sash stretched taut over his head, the man was mesmerizing as he spun and swiveled and high-kicked to the relentless beat.  Kurt was right when he’d described ‘Bolero’ as deceptively repetitive. Seemingly monotonous on paper but as living music it floated the ear along an endless rolling tide. 

Sebastian heard the subtle key change, which was their cue to embrace again, but just as he moved in Kurt stuck his arm out and laid his palm flat on Sebastian’s chest, maintaining contact as he pushed with bold, confident strides, forcing the taller man backward.  Kurt’s eyes were blazing.  This was not a move they'd rehearsed, he was improvising.  Sebastian was frightened, but also fascinated.  Kurt’s words echoed in his mind, “Just let the music possess you.  I’ll do the rest.”

Kurt felt intoxicated.  He had told Sebastian to pretend he was the hunter and Kurt was the prey, but this prey was turning the tables.  The hunter didn’t seem to mind.  Quite the contrary, Sebastian was willing and pliant under his hand.  Commanding him on stage was decadent and glorious.  Dancing with Blaine had never been this intense.

The string section marched into battle.  Not knowing exactly what Kurt wanted him to do, Sebastian let Kurt guide him backwards in slow circles, noting they were spiraling again towards the center of the stage.  Once there, Kurt released Sebastian, did one last sinuous dip and then SPIN, STAMP.  SPIN, STAMP. SPIN, STAMP.  He extended his hand to Sebastian.  This was part of the routine and very near the end, too.  Relieved, Sebastian grasped his hand and tugged so that Kurt spun crashing into his chest.  The entire horn section went to war with the strings and percussion.  Before he could stop himself or question why he did it, Sebastian flicked out his tongue to taste the tangy sweat on Kurt’s neck as they swayed in place.  Wind instruments came in to reinforce the horns as their hips slotted together.  Cymbals crashed.  Then, arms clasped at their sides, torsos connected with no space between them, Sebastian pushed forward forcing Kurt to lean deeply back, then Kurt pushed forward and Sebastian leaned back.  One last swing of this human pendulum and then they each brought their hands up, connecting with the other man’s chest, and as the horns blared their final notes harsh and jarring, each pushed their partner to fall backwards away from them, turning gracefully at the last minute to land face down, forearms breaking their fall as the instruments abruptly tumbled down the scale into silence.

In an instant the audience was on its feet, clapping and roaring approval.  Panting as he picked himself up, Sebastian felt relieved, exhilarated, and totally aroused.  He looked over at his companion.  The stiff, stuffy millionaire’s son was gone.  Beside him stood Kurt, just Kurt, beaming at the crowd, breathless and radiant. 

The entire burlesque company was cheering and whooping from the wings.  Ms. Bieste’s voice rang out above the din, “You’re hired!”


	8. The Education of Kurt E. Hummel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to be as historically accurate as possible. The first Dust Bowl storms hit the American mid-West in 1931. Fanny Brice was a legendary entertainer from the 1920s and the song "My Man" referenced here was written in 1921.

Tepanville, Hoftan, Latertown, Stamfield, and half a dozen other places.  Night after night Kurt and Sebastian danced the Bolero as the troupe made its way ever closer to Diamond City, staying sometimes one evening, sometimes two or three in a town or city.  Despite Kurt’s original hope that he’d be reunited with Blaine within the week, before he knew it more than two weeks had gone by and they were still on the road. 

With each performance, Sebastian’s confidence grew, and so did his fascination with Kurt’s transformation.  _The man who started out more than a little spoiled, more than a little sheltered and a little uptight was blossoming under the spotlight and gaining inner depth as he learned just how privileged his life had been,_ Sebastian wrote after a week with The Beiste Show in Town.  He hardly ever referred to him as “the scion” or “the Hummel heir.”  Now it was mostly “Kurt” this and “Kurt” that.

Brittany was Kurt’s first teacher.  Her family were farmers, the lovely dancer told the men as the show bus meandered its way to the next town over.  Corn mostly, with a side business in eggs.  It was a harsh life.  The water-greedy land was a jealous and unforgiving mistress, requiring constant, painstaking attention.  The bank that held their mortgage was even less forgiving and when the Dust Bowl hit and wiped out everything four generations of Pierces had worked so hard to accumulate, the family had no choice but to sell the chickens (which they had saved from the multi-day storms by bringing in the house), pile their belongings into their overloaded old truck, and strike out west in hopes of finding new opportunities.   Brittany laugh when Kurt asked if she ever wanted to continue her education, saying she’d actually left school after 4th grade because she wasn’t nearly smart enough to go further.  She could read some and do basic figuring and the chickens laid beautiful large eggs under her care, and both she and her parents were quite satisfied with that.  

She’d always loved dancing and would come home from the picture shows eager to practice the different steps as best she could remember them in the barn when everyone was settled in for the night.   When the Pierce family crossed paths with Ms. Beiste -- Brittany couldn’t remember exactly where -- Pa and Ma told her to go with Beiste so she did.  ( _Probably to have one less mouth to feed,_ Sebastian thought cynically, although he didn’t intend to put that in his story.)  Brittany was sad to leave her family but now she had Santana and wore pretty, sparkly clothes every night and was the happiest she’d ever been.  And she’d be much obliged if maybe Kurt or Sebastian would help her write a letter to her folks once in a while.

Santana had an altogether different story.  The tough-talking Latina came from the urban sprawl of the Big Diamond, but unlike Rachel and Jesse there was no Golden Way in her background.  Her father was a barber in the barrio and her mother cleaned the fancy hotel rooms and penthouses rich people like Kurt took for granted were always in perfect order.  Growing up, Santana lived for the Saturday night dances at the community center where she’d go in the tightest, brightest clothes her mother would allow and twirl and flirt with all the boys.  Like Brittany, she went to work young, helping her mother from age 13 on, and all she ever wanted to do was get away from home, go anywhere where she didn’t have to scrub floors or wait tables to scrape by.  The Beiste Show in Town was her second burlesque gig.  The owner of the first one fired her when he caught her kissing his daughter (“his little girl was too good for a lowly stripper”).   But Beiste paid better, anyway, and Brittany, well, Brittany!  Santana’s favorite color was bright red and she insisted on painting her nails that color, even though it didn’t match her powder puff pink costume. 

Santana couldn’t help admitting Kurt and Sebastian’s routine was bold and original, but said it needed spicing up.  She outright demanded they add more traditional stripper elements and appointed herself their new dancing instructor.  She was a grueling task master but Kurt relished the lessons and Sebastian became highly motivated once he realized Santana was incorporating a lot more opportunities for less clothing and more holding Kurt in his arms.  Sebastian made the mistake of mentioning this to her on the side and she gave him a knowing wink.  “No problem, chipmunk.  Anyone with eyes can see how much you want to hold your, uh, _husband_ close on that stage.  You clearly want to hold him off stage, too.  What Auntie Tana wants to know is why you don’t.”  Sebastian, of course, denied having the faintest idea what she meant.

It was during one of these practice sessions that a light blew out in the rickety, drafty theater where the troupe decamped one morning for a two-night engagement.  Beiste hollered, Puck shrugged, and the light got fixed.  Sebastian, no stranger to having a demanding boss yell at him, expressed his sympathy and Puck just laughed.  “Hey, it beats prison.” 

Sebastian grinned. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” 

“Well, I do,” Puck replied flatly.  “And trust me, pal.  It beats prison.” 

See, Puck was what do-gooders like the Salvation Corps called “a hard case.”  His old man had run off shortly after Puck was born.  “Pop never did get around to marrying Mom.”  But Puck figured he wasn’t missing much, ‘cause Mom said he was kind of a drunk and used to like knocking her around.  Puck ran with a gang, learned a little about electronics from hot-wiring cars, rode the rails, got caught when he branched out into breaking and entering, served his time, and now he fixed lights, hauled scenery, and handled whatever else needed doing backstage.  Puck didn’t like staying in one place very long, so the burlesque show was a perfect fit.  And Beiste could bellow all she wanted – Puck would still respect her ‘cause she knew he was an ex-con and didn’t give a shit as long as he kept her show on the road.  Puck would do just about anything for that woman, legal or otherwise.

Lauren was fat.  Simple as that, she told Kurt and Sebastian once she decided she could trust them – sometime around when Kurt started helping Brittany writer letters to her folks.  She grew up fat and her family was ashamed, so as soon as she could she left home and never looked back.  Movies had always been her escape from otherwise constant ridicule in her dour small town, so she gravitated towards vaudeville and burlesque.  But rejection followed even there.  Every other show laughed when she offered to be their stagehand and turned her away until Beiste – herself a former circus strongwoman – gave her a job and a place to belong.  And damned if Lauren wasn’t gonna fight tooth and nail to keep it, she declared fiercely. 

Kurt felt like crying when Lauren said all this.  He’d always been surrounded by such a loving family, first his parents, then just his father, and then sweet Carole and Finn, the great clumsy oaf.  When Kurt threw his arms around Lauren she froze in shock.  _People probably don’t touch her very often_ , Sebastian mused, himself equally surprised at the scion’s kindness.  After all, she cut an intimidating figure.  After a few moments Lauren hugged Kurt back and whispered, “I know who you are, Kurt Hummel. I read the society pages.  But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

There was no trauma in Chandler's past.  His family were comfortably well-off.  Dad was a lawyer and Mom took care of the house.  They loved him and just wanted him to be happy.  For Chandler, being happy meant show business and making beautiful clothes.  His personality was a little too irrepressible for the Diamond City fashion houses, and – as he admitted to Kurt – he didn’t really have the talent to succeed as a Golden Way costumer.  So here he was, contented as a clam, except when Rachel demanded the impossible on a budget.  Kurt had a few ideas of his own about designing, it was something he’d dabbled at as a hobby in school, and Chandler was delighted to have a collaborator.  Many a lunch break found the two huddled together swapping ideas for new routines and outfits to go with them. 

That’s how Kurt ended up – with Rachel and Ms. Beiste’s encouragement – wearing a [gold sequin tuxedo with top hat](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3b/Columbia_top_hat_and_tux.jpg) singing Fanny Brice’s “[My Man](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PG6Xj6-hchg%20)” on stage.  Sebastian was too enchanted to notice Santana giving him pointed looks.

All these stories were a lot for Kurt to process.  Each night after the show, as they lay in their shared bed trying not to touch, Kurt would pepper Sebastian with questions.  From Sebastian Kurt learned to his surprise that children were only required to attend school up to age 14, and most, like Brittany and Santana, left before then to go to work.  He’d just assumed everyone at least finished high school, although of course not at an exclusive private academy like Dalton.  And how much did barbers and maids in Diamond City earn, he wanted to know?  Kurt was determined that from now on he’d tip _much_ more liberally. Puck’s circumstance definitely challenged Kurt’s world view.  Kurt had never met anyone who was illegitimate, or a criminal.  Born out of wedlock, so Puck’s mother was a loose woman, right?  Except she’d kept the baby and raised him by herself instead of putting him in an orphanage, which was… admirable?  Yes, definitely admirable.  And grand larceny was wrong, of course.  Puck was a thief, so that made him a bad person.  Except he served his debt to society, so it stood to reason that he deserved a second chance.  Kurt decided if Puck ever wanted a new job he would hire him as a chauffeur or a mechanic in one of Burt’s shops.  And maybe Burt should look to hire other ex-cons in some capacity, on the factory floor, for example.  Sure, given the hundreds of jobs the Hummels controlled, they could definitely find places for such men.  Kurt vowed to speak with Burt about it after his and Blaine’s wedding.

 _Blaine!_ Between the practices, performances, and getting to know the rest of the troupe, Kurt didn’t find his thoughts wandering to Blaine as often as they probably should and that realization made him feel terribly guilty.  To compensate, Kurt called Blaine often to update him on his geographic progress.  After the first conversation, where Blaine just laughed as Kurt described his dance with Sebastian and how much everyone loved it, Kurt never mentioned it again.  He didn’t tell Blaine how alive performing made him feel.  He didn’t tell Blaine how hard Sebastian was working to improve.  And he certainly didn’t feel like hearing another joke like “Careful that fake husband of yours doesn’t break my sweet porcelain doll.”  That particular comment prompted some … protective? … feelings on Kurt’s part towards Sebastian, for some reason.  Nor did Kurt want to listen to Blaine describe yet another swanky party he’d thrown or name drop celebrities and important society figures Blaine wanted invited to their nuptials.  It was supposed to be a wedding, for goodness sake, not a networking opportunity!  But what hurt particularly was when Kurt began excitedly to describe how much audiences loved his new solo, only to have Blaine reply, “Now Kurt, baby, don’t get carried away.  Everyone knows your voice is an acquired taste.”  Kurt didn’t call for three days after that.

Sebastian called Sue even less often.  Not that he was avoiding her, exactly, but maybe he felt guilty about becoming less and less eager to reach Diamond City as each day passed, knowing that at the end he’d reveal himself to Kurt, say goodbye and the story would be over.  That’s it, he told himself, it’s just that the story would be over.  Nothing to do with missing holding Kurt close.  Or their whispered evening conversations.  Or how delightful Kurt looked when he blush at Sebastian’s brazen complements and innuendo.   And certainly not at all connected to lying next to the scion night after night, falling asleep to the soft sound of his breathing.  No, this was just about the story.

* * *

18 days.  18 days of life on the road and then Detective Schuester appeared at the box office one morning, brandishing Kurt’s photo.

“Have you seen this man?”


End file.
